Strings and Schemes

Chapter 14

I laugh, "I guess Independence Day will do that to a girl."

Who knew this city had such an affinity for the pigeons?

Apparently Louis. He proceeds to tell me about how the Brits domesticated pigeons in the 1600s and used them to send messages during wartime, only to abandon them when they were done with them. And it really riles him up. Who knew the history of pigeons could be so controversial?

The next place we stop at is one of the Jamie Oliver restaurants. Fully in our Founding Fathers uniforms, monocles, and moustaches.

"Lou," I mutter, half smashed and fully stressed out. "We can't behave like buffoons here."

He smirks, "Oh we won't be,  but you might be." Placing emphasis on the 'we'.

Well, shit. A very nice, very sober hostess leads us to our bar seats, which is conceivably the only seats we should be even allowed at in this place. It's far too stuffy, and far too colonial for this independent day. Which is exactly why I think Louis' madness has led us here - showing independence not only from my parents, but from the expectations of the society I'm living in.

Louis orders us two rounds of tequila, no lime, no salt and two less-than-appealing ciders to chase them with. We clink and take the drink like a married couple.

"Alright, here's the Mission babe," Louis starts. "Convince this guy to rename a drink after you."

My eyes bulge.

"Come on, it's not even that bad. No public embarrassment, nothing." Louis insists. No public embarrassment for him at least. I breathe deeply, if I'm committing to Independence Day I've gotta commit to the bit.

"I need your attention. This is urgent."

I slam my hands onto the bar, leaning in like I'm about to reveal government secrets. The bartender, a guy in his late 20s with a man bun and a look of mild exhaustion, barely blinks. He's seen worse.

"What is it this time?" he sighs, wiping down a glass.

Louis is perched next to me, too many drinks deep to count anymore, and nudges me forward like a proud stage mom. "Tell him, love. It's time."

I straighten up, dramatic, self-important, fueled by cider and definitely tequila. "I propose an idea so brilliant, so revolutionary, that your little restaurant will go down in history."

The bartender looks 100% unconvinced. "Oh, will it?"

"Yes." I  nods solemnly. "You need to rename a drink after me."

Silence.

The bartender exhales. "Do I?"

Louis claps enthusiastically. "Yes, you do."

I lean in further, whispering like this is some sort of underground deal. "Listen, all great establishments have signature drinks. The Old Fashioned. The Manhattan. The... Slippery Nipple." I wince. "Okay, maybe not that one, but you get the point."

The bartender rubs his temples. "And what, exactly, would a 'Raina' contain?"

I pause. "Whatever I'm drinking right now."

"That's just cider with a splash of tequila."

"Exactly." I beam. "It's unexpected. It's chaotic. It makes bad decisions seem like good ones. Just like me."

Louis raises his glass. "A drink that says, 'I probably shouldn't, but I definitely will.'"

The bartender eyes us both, "And what do I get out of this?"